Look Before You Leap (in the Shower)
by sherlockllives
Summary: "Oh Christ!" Sherlock moaned loudly, his baritone bouncing off the bathroom tiles... Sherlock should really pay more attention to his surroundings...


*edges around the door* hello there, yes I'm back and I'm really sorry for not updating for ages but look, i brought you smut :D ?  
>Yeah so sorry, I've been (and still am) suffering from a fever and also I've...I've just been lazy okay and tumblr has been too inviting lately.<br>But anyway this is smut and it's set before the fall and stuff to avoid complicated scenarios with John cheating on Mary...yeah not cool so...enjoy!  
>Prompt was given to me by tumblr user mindpalacee, details in the footnotes.<p>

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"Oh _Christ_!" Sherlock moaned loudly, his baritone bouncing off the bathroom tiles as John's firm, warm hand worked at the detective's cock. He had just the right amount of friction as the palm of his hand rubbed over the head and oh god, _god, god!_

But let's take it back a bit first, before Sherlock found himself in the delectable state of bliss, falling apart under John's skilled medical palm.

Sherlock had been hunched over his kitchen table for the good part of two days now, his thin fingers worked at various amounts of equipment furiously as he struggled to get the results he needed. A man had been found dead in a chemical plant—no not found, _placed._ The blood patterns around the body suggested that the body had been put there afterwards but why?

Sherlock had figured that there must have been some chemical or slice of evidence that was unique to the body, but that would blend in perfectly in the right environment—hence a chemical plant, the one place where an abnormal chemical would look anything but out of place.

So yes, back to Sherlock. He had been conducting tests, separating compounds and overall doing everything that the chemical plant did not want done to their chemicals to see if he could find any abnormalities on the body—so far no luck.

He'd been so invested the past two days that he had hardly noticed John pattering round the flat, pushing past him to make tea on occasions and mostly complaining about the state of the kitchen. Why should he take notice? Why indeed.

It was on the second day at about 7:00PM that Baker Street's kitchen saw the most action it ever had in a long while, and that's including the time John threw a teaspoon from the living room and it landed directly in the sink.

Sherlock had done something, something he neither had the time nor patience to figure out to this day, and that certain something had had a…well, _explosive _effect on the chemicals in the very petri dish the sleuth had in hand.

There was a small spark which grabbed the man's attention and as he leaned closer to see the reaction the whole thing just went up in smoke like a cartoon. Sherlock coughed, taken aback, and stumbled while he dropped the petri dish to the ground. It smashed tremendously in sync to Sherlock's back crashing into the shelves behind and—once again like a Tom and Jerry cartoon—causing bottles of clear liquid to topple over and cover the detective.

Sherlock's mind raced, remembering –thank god- that those chemicals weren't harmful to human skin but the psychological state of having harmless acid poured over him still made his scalp and skin itch as if it was corrosive.

"Stupid!" he chided himself and bee lined from the kitchen straight into the bathroom, practically tearing the clothes from his body as if they were on fire.

Blinded with his own self fury and panic that he would never admit to later, Sherlock made no note to close the door or even look around the bathroom before he hopped in the shower.

Wait...why is the shower already running?

Only then, hair already soaked and fully naked under the shower's spray, did he realise what he'd just done. He froze, he couldn't bear to move. Prickling panic shot up his spine and the not too familiar feel of light headed embarrassment filled his features making his tongue heavy.

"Sherlock what the bloody hell do you think you're doing!?" John howled, standing well out the way of his naked flatmate, hoping to god he was out of the sleuth's line of sight.

Sherlock's hands were still in his hair but he wasn't moving, he looked like a man who had a gun to his back in a police arrest.

_'Think, think, think Sherlock, don't let this shock you! Don't be stupid!' _

"Sherlock are you listening to me!?" John barked, his movements compromising his tone as he shielded himself the best his could with one hand, the other tentatively reaching to touch the man's shoulder. He stopped, hovering mere inches away as if he were made of salt.

Finished battling with his inner ego, Sherlock took in a breath and decided to play this off in a typical 'Sherlock' fashion. He continued to massage his hair under the shower's spray, the itching slowly being relieved by the warm embrace of the steam and water.

"It went wrong." Sherlock spoke, his voice was calm but the obvious nervous way he arranged his sentences contradicted that. He heard John move slightly and sigh behind him and faintly wondered why he hadn't left yet.

"What did?" His voice was sharp and dark and not to be messed with. Sherlock suddenly felt quite vulnerable. Sucking up his fear and replacing it with 'Mr Cool Arrogance', Sherlock spun around and locked his gaze on John's.

"Chemicals John, I spilt some chemicals." He barked but his voice regrettably died in his throat, losing its courageous tone. John blinked at him angrily, his hair was tousled up in shampoo that hadn't been washed out yet and water droplets ran off his strong shoulders. Sherlock noticed the scar of a bullet wound in the left shoulder and mentally applauded his deduction all those years ago when they first met.

Sherlock felt himself having to physically tear his gaze from panning further down the doctor's body. No, eye contact Sherlock, you're a professional.

"So you just barge in here…!" the doctor exclaimed, gesturing to Sherlock with his safe hand, "Rip all your clothes off and _hop in _without even…" he stalled, pinching the bridge of his nose with a slight smirk. "You know what, typical…bloody typical…"

Sherlock's brow furrowed.

"What's the matter?"

"This!" John hissed, snapping his gaze up to lock on Sherlock's once more, "Jesus…only I would be stood here arguing completely naked in the shower with Sherlock _bloody_ Holmes!"

Sherlock twitched a smile but John's sentence of disapproval had done nothing to distract him of the fact that they were both completely naked in a small enclosed space together. His heart began to pick up at the idea that all he had to do was look down and he would be able to study the most private places of John Watson.

He really needed to improve his self-control.

"Well um…" the detective started, looking about awkwardly, "Aren't you going to leave then?" John's eyes widened in disbelief and slight humour, but the kind of 'John Watson' humour that you couldn't quite tell if he was angry or laughing at you.

"Bloody hell I'm not!" his voice had risen again and Sherlock tried very hard to cover up the jolt in his shoulders. "I was here first Mr I'm-suddenly-so-special! If anyone's getting out first it's _you_!" this time it's was Sherlock's features that slackened in disbelief.

"But acid John! Does that not bother you!?" John just shook his head and took a step towards Sherlock. Sherlock, confused, took a step back and found himself under the spray of the shower once more. He gasped and shifted his head to the side so the water didn't direct into his eyes.

"Fine then…" John started again, his voice was low. "How long will it take you to wash all the acid off you?"

"I can't know the exact time Joh-"

"Approximately."

"Um…" Sherlock thought for a second, wondering what had caused John's sudden change in heart. "About 5 minutes, there was a lot of acid and-"

"Too long."

"I'm sorry!?" Sherlock very nearly squeaked, finding it hard to keep his composure. "It's not like you have a fixed time! We've spent the last 5 minutes just stood here trying to not look at each other's penises!" Sherlock's face flushed with blood as soon as he said the last sentence, his mouth had completely disconnected from his mind for the moment.

"Sorry what…?" John blinked, his eyes hardening as he jutted his chin out and squared his shoulders, a typically masculine way to defend oneself which caused Sherlock's legs to grow weak. If he was in defence that means he must have been thinking the same thing.

Sherlock averted his gaze and instead spun around once more to face the showers spray.

"Won't be a moment…" he muttered politely as if the whole scene hadn't just happened.

"No, Sherlock, what did you say?" John's voice was closer now and it made the hairs on Sherlock's neck stand up visibly. He shifted, prickles of vulnerability shot through his stomach and thighs and…rear. Was John looking at his arse?

"You heard me…and look it just came out oka-?" He was cut off by a snort from behind him. "What?" panic rose through him as he angled his head slightly, not wanting to look behind him for fear of John's dignity.

"So…you find me attractive?" It was a simple enough question, in fact one that could have been answered easily with no baggage, but when the question hit Sherlock's ears he panicked.

He daren't turn around, his face would give too much away, so he just stood frozen once more as he considered the question. He heard John's shift and clear his throat.

"Listen, sorry you don't have to-"

"Yes."

Silence spread for a short while and only the run of the shower drowned out their breathing. Sherlock's face was burning under the water and his chest tightened with the need to say something. "Uhm…" He cleared his throat

"Well you're not exactly…ugly…"

"So you…?"

"Yes John, I thought that was pretty clear by now!" He hadn't meant to raise his voice but his embarrassment had got the better of him. John cleared his throat and, again, shifted his weight. He still couldn't believe they were stood here like this, having this conversation. It was almost laughable.

"Sherlock…uhm…are you…?" John stalled, trying to order the sentence in his head. Sherlock stiffened and held his breathe, knowing the inevitable question he would have to answer. "Well, I've just wanted to know…just because…I mean there's nothing wrong if you are but…"

This time it was Sherlock's turn to become angry, he whirled on John and squared him backwards into the shower door.

"Oh for God's sake, John!" He barked, the temporary frustration in his mind clouding over the fact of how close they were. "Don't be so ignorant, just because I happen to state that another man is good looking does not mean that I'm homosexual!"

John looked up at him with blue eyes that were suspiciously darker than usual and only then did Sherlock begin to take in details such as the shampoo in John's hair that was now running down his chest and neck, the semi-golden stubble that covered his lower face in dustings. He swallowed hard.

"But are you?" Was John's voice always like that? So caramelised? Perhaps he was just noticing now.

"No…" _Not exactly_, "I'm a demi sexual with balanced hormo-" he was once again cut off by a devious look that crossed John's eyes and, before Sherlock could question it, John was very close very quickly. The sleuth gasped but made no movement away, in fact he pushed forwards until their noses locked past each other, not quite kissing but close enough to taste the water droplets between their lips.

Sherlock breathed in deeply, smelling the manly tones of John's shampoo and the musk of his wet skin so, _so_ close to Sherlock's. His head buzzed at the realisation of what he was doing, blood rushing to every part of his body and making his fingertips tingle with excitement.

With a hum, John tilted his chin to teasingly brush their lips together and then no coherent thought was made after that. Sherlock whined (something he would deny later)and closed the gap quickly, savouring the feel of human contact.

John pushed back off the shower door and drove them back until they were under the spray of the shower, Sherlock's back pressed against the chilled tiles of the cubical.

Sherlock's mind couldn't stop racing despite himself. Why? Why was this happening? Did John like him or was he just teasing him? Cruelly convincing him that being gay wasn't bad? He shouldn't be succumbing to this, this was too quick but _oh god_ he was so, _so_ talented, _Jesus Christ._

Sherlock had been kissed before obviously, but he had never experienced such proximity and feverish movements. He felt the scratch of John's stubble against his cheek and for a flash considered what it would feel like on the inside of his thigh as John worked his way up.

_'No, no don't think like that you're naked remember? If you get hard he'll see.'_

So much for that idea because in that very thought process John did _something_ fantastic with his tongue that caused Sherlock to gasp loudly. Instantly the warm and slightly dizzying sensation of John's tongue filled his mouth, tracing carefully under and then over his tongue before swiping firmly at the roof of his mouth.

The detective thought as if he might faint under the touch. He hadn't noticed John's hands come up to support his shoulders but now he appreciated the touch, gripping his forearms fiercely with shaking hands.

Sherlock was slightly aware of his penis beginning to throb between his thighs but his mind was much too preoccupied with exploring John's mouth to try and control the blood flow. The detective wasn't a very sexual creature, it was just his nature, but it seemed that John had some sort of effect on him that made him feel like a hormonal teenager—not that he was ever really hormonal as a teenager.

Mirroring John's movements, Sherlock stroked the roof of John's mouth with his tongue and savoured the growl it tore from the doctor's throat. Almost instantly afterwards, the doctor pulled away from the kiss. Sherlock, who was still in a very love drunk haze, leant after him, trying to capture his lips once more. John chuckled and put a gentle hand around Sherlock's neck, keeping him in place.

"Not gay then?" He smirked smugly; Sherlock sighed and licked his kissed bruised lips.

"Homo-romantic…"

"_Romantic_?" John questioned with another smile, looking between them to observe Sherlock's half hard cock. Sherlock blushed furiously.

"_Demi _sexual." Sherlock arched a brow, countering John's teasing glance. "I have sexual spells, it happens…" he thought for a while, "It seems more frequent when you're around though." John blinked in surprise, it was such a casual sentence but it was laced with so much meaning that John felt his heart stop for a beat.

Another smirk but this time from Sherlock as he looked between them to observe John's also half hard member. Their eyesight met again.

"Gay?"

"Bi."

"I see…" they looked into each other's eyes for a while, drinking up unspoken words. Sherlock licked his lips again, taking the lower lip into his mouth and biting gently, intentionally teasing John who watched intensely. "You still have shampoo in your hair…"

"Yeah…I do…" small talk, nothing much. Something else was there though, something in John's eyes that Sherlock couldn't quite read but it was dark and honest. Wanton yet reserved.

"So…" The silky tone had returned to John's voice once more as he leant forwards into Sherlock's space. Sherlock attempted to catch his lips but he avoided him and instead rested his mouth on the shell of his ear. Sherlock held his breath, his cock pulsed again. "I understand as a demi sexual you may not be comfortable with certain activities?" It was such a dull sentence but the tone in which it was said sent shivers down Sherlock's spine.

"That's true." It took a lot of effort to not let his voice break and even then it shook uncontrollably.

"Ah, I see…" a calloused hand brushed against Sherlock's collar bones in feather light touches that drew little whimpers from Sherlock. John's palm flattened and slowly stroked down the centre of his chest until it reached his naval. The sleuth bit his lip impatiently and dug his nails into John's shoulder.

The doctor grunted and trailed the tip of his tongue over the delicate shell, simple ministrations such as these had already caused Sherlock's legs to shake.

"Would you be comfortable with me touching you?" as if to emphasise just exactly _where_ he would be touching him he drummed his fingers on Sherlock's stomach, tracing his hip bones.

Sherlock very nearly choked on his anticipation to answer but eventually he forced a strangled,

"Oh _yes!"_ before placing an insistent hand on John's wrist. John smirked against his neck and tut tutted him.

"Not so fast, unless you think water is a good enough lubricant?" Sherlock felt a little bashful at his rush to be touched but he couldn't wallow in his shame for long as the loud sound of John spitting into his hand made heat coil in his belly and his cock fill with more blood.

"Right then…" He purred and suddenly his hand was on him.

Sherlock's mouth sprung open in a silent moan as he wrapped his arm around John's neck, bringing him closer into his shoulder. From this angle he could hear John's stuttered breathing, obviously he was more nervous than he let on.

"Look, Sherlock I can't see anything like this." He muttered and turned Sherlock around to rest on the left wall of the shower unit. Sherlock shivered at the cool tiles against his back but his mind had other sensations to indulge in so it was quickly forgotten about.

John hastily parted Sherlock's thighs, his wild, hungry eyes drinking up the sight of the detective's moist cock twitching under his stalled grasp. Sherlock moaned a little at the sight of himself, lifting his hips off the tiles to encourage John to move his hand.

John smirked and slowly, _ever so slowly_, stroked a firm grasp from the base to the head of Sherlock's cock, twisting his palm fluidly around the glands before sinking it back down again. Sherlock's breath stuttered into a guttural moan and his head rocked back against the tiles, they chilled his scalp but Sherlock couldn't care less.

John's other hand held his hip as he repeated the motion, this time circling the head twice in such a way that it made all the muscles in Sherlock's stomach flutter.

Grounding himself the best he could, the sleuth clawed out for John, gripping his forearms with white knuckles as he continues to work him between his fingers. They would probably leave bruises but that was the last thing on Sherlock's mind so far.

And this is where we came in.

"Oh _Christ_!" Sherlock moaned loudly, his baritone bouncing off the bathroom tiles as John's firm, warm hand worked at the detective's cock. He had just the right amount of friction as the palm of his hand rubbed over the head and oh god, _god, god!_

Sherlock never really considered himself to be a very vocal man, especially when he was talking to idiots, but it seemed in this particular area of things he had the singing voice of a two penny whore.

John chuckled darkly –_fuck that was sexy_- and leant into Sherlock's neck, nipping at the sensitive skin where the jaw connected with the neck and continuing his slow torture.

Sherlock was reaching his peak quickly, all too quickly but the sensations and the heady realisation that this was John, actually _John_, did nothing to calm his hyper libido. He was so close, the heat in his belly coiled up like a tight spring but _not quite_, he needed more.

"John please, please I'm so-ah!" _'Oh god what did he do? That was fantastic oh god!' _Sherlock continued to writhe under the touch of John's hand, his movements were slick with salvia and pre-come but still painfully slow and teasingly accurate.

John moved his mouth to Sherlock's ear once more and applied pressure to the lobe with his teeth, breathing heavily in such a way that it skipped his ear and went straight to Sherlock's groin. He slowed his movements at the head of Sherlock's now engorged cock, rubbing his thumb in small circles under the glands and teasing the frenulum. Sherlock gasped over and over, squeezing John's arms so tightly he feared he might break the bone.

He was so close, just a bit more, that's all he needed.

"John please, stop this, please I'm so close." He panted, feeling humiliated at him having to resort to begging, Sherlock Holmes never begged. John groaned low in his throat and the noise ripped down Sherlock's spine.

"Oh but Sherlock, you forget…" His voice was so deliciously dark and laced with lust that Sherlock was surprised he didn't lose it right then. "You're the one interrupted _my _shower, I'm in charge." With that the doctor's hand made another firm stroke down Sherlock's cock, squeezing the base gently and then releasing to give Sherlock a dizzying rush of blood to the head.

He could no longer speak, he was caught in the bridge of having the most fantastic orgasm of his life and not quite being close enough. All he could do was pant helplessly and hope for John to give him mercy.

John stood back to marvel at his work, his eyes were dark like deep sea water and the shower's spray ran invitingly down his back and shoulders. Sherlock also noted that all the shampoo suds had been washed away—pointless details even in his state.

Another thing that caught Sherlock's attention was the army doctor's cock that stood proud and untouched in a bed of curls. Sherlock's mouth watered at the sight of it and he wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch him, make him feel what he was feeling.

"Would you like me to finish you off?" The words almost didn't register to Sherlock but he was unable to react, instead he moaned like a tom cat in heat. John responded with a growl and moved in close, wrapping his palm around the hot flesh of Sherlock's cock, his own cock twitched in sympathy and need.

In a matter of seconds and two feverish pumps from John's hand Sherlock was already seeing stars, his stomach tightened and he felt his balls pull up close to his body, so close.

"Sherlock, Sherlock look at me…" John's voice was pretty much disembodied as white hot pleasure filled his mind as he neared his finish, "Sherlock!" a hand took his face and angled it forwards "Open your eyes." It was hard but he did it, oh god did he do it.

The sight that met his were two fiery cobalt blue eyes and tousled hair before his eyes rolled back and he was coming, the image of John burned into his retinas. His whole world shook, a high pitched buzzing in his ears stopped him from differentiating whether that was him or John moaning but within a few seconds he couldn't care less.

He hadn't realised how tense he'd been until he relaxed. Bad idea. He very nearly fell, boneless, onto the shower floor if John had not been there to hold him. His breathing was still shallow and as he swallowed he realised his throat was red raw. It must have been him moaning then.

John stumbled back with Sherlock's weight and slammed into the adjacent shower wall with a grunt, his cock slapped against his stomach in a way that made him hiss with heady want.

Sherlock leant into John, still recovering, and then felt his stomach flip when he pressed against the doctor's hot member. John whined at the pressure and bucked into him, immediately apologizing.

"I'm s-sorry, look if you don't feel comfortable I can easily-" but before John could say another word, Sherlock rammed his thigh between the doctor's legs and had him by the hips, encouraging him to grind against his side. John cried out in shock and pure, carnal pleasure, unable to stop himself as he feverishly thrust like a rabbit in season.

Sherlock purred, stroking the good doctor's neck as he buried his face in the sleuth's shoulder, carding his fingers through the wet hair. John was murmuring incoherent phrases and sucking gently on Sherlock's shoulder, of which he was very grateful for.

Sherlock felt the doctor's hips stutter slightly and then with a loud cry, warm strings of come splattered onto his hip and stomach. John slumped slightly and blindly grabbed at Sherlock's shoulders, trying to stable himself.

"Thank you for that." He wheezed and Sherlock cautiously leant in, rubbing their lips together in a shy kiss.

"Same to you…"

They both smiled at each other, which soon turned into stupid grins and then light chuckles. Who would have thought it? And all down to Sherlock being a clumsy scientist.

Suddenly a voice emerged from behind the flat door along with furious banging.

"Sherlock Holmes get out of the shower, money doesn't just grow on trees dear!" Mrs Hudson chided, sounding a bit more pissed off than usual. They both looked at each other with a smirk and a guilty expression.

John studied Sherlock's come covered body.

"You get that cleared up and then I'll have a nice cuppa for you." He chirped and gave Sherlock a wink before staggering out of the shower. Sherlock grinned wolfishly after him.

"Oh be careful, there's some chemicals on the floor, wouldn't want you to take another shower now would we?" John gave him a devious grin as he picked up a towel and wrapped it around his waist.

"God no…" and then the bathroom door shut behind him.

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Mindpalacee came to me in a dream and spoke unto me:  
>"Sherlock jumps in the shower in order to wash off chemicals. Little does he know it's occupied."<br>Which I though was great so bam!  
>Also this was only meant to be a ficlet but...i dunno guys i got emotionally attached (and waffled)<br>Thank you so much for reading, the next fic will be something about women's lingerie *wink* so if you like the sound of that then...subscribe to me or something (is that what you call it?)  
>Please leave nice things comment (pleeease comment)<br>Also follow me on tumblr at the url johnsaveslives


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